Silently agreed
by AnadoraBlack
Summary: Merlin wants Arthur safe. To ensure his safety, he sends his best archer: Leera. But as she has to live with the Sarmatian Knights, an unwanted obstacle appears. She can't understand them. Except one. Because the most quiet of them can speak with his eyes. Tristan/OC, only eventually...
1. Mission

****_A/N: Here we go, another excrutiatingly hard story to write... ^^ I hope you like it, King Arthur's fans!_

_So, before you go in, any passage in italic are British speaking, and as Leera's a Woad, it's only normal she doesn't get it. It will get better in the next chapters, hopefully... :p_

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**Chapter one: Mission**

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Leera walked up on the forest' soil, her leather chest bindings making it hard for her to breathe. Her bow and quiver, attached to her back, bounced with every move. Her thick brown hair, plaited on her back, fell in bangs on her round face, highlighting her strangely piercing green eyes.

She chose not to look back at the remains of her tribe, and continued straight on, the rain tapping on the trees leaves and falling on her on refreshing falls.

"Leera."

She stopped walking and looked straight before her.

Merlin was standing in front of the young Woad, his stick firmly held, his blue face looking determined.

She nodded. "Merlin. I've come as asked."

He nodded and turned around, gesturing her to follow him.

The forest wasn't as silent as it had been moments before. The rain was heavier, pushing on their heads. Leera could sense the wind and clouds above them.

But it was her land. She knew it. And loved every inch of it. Rain or sunlight.

"Leera." She turned her head many times, seeing Merlin's most trusted men nod in her direction. She nodded back, though never talking.

She was still wondering hard why the chief himself had asked for her. Her. Merely a woman. A warrior, indeed, but nothing more. Or less.

Once Merlin had reached his coveted bonfire, Leera sat herself on a log, surrounded by men all as painted as Merlin. Herself only had tattooed her arms and chest. Lines coming up her stomach, dividing in two up her breasts, and coming down her arms where they came into volutes, ending by rounding her two middle fingers on each hand.

The marks of an archer.

"Leera. Thank you for coming."

She looked up into the ancient's face and nodded. "What is it you wish of me, Merlin?"

His men all stared at her in wonder. She just glared back. Even if this mission was beyond her, she hated people to doubt her abilities.

"I must ask something of you. Something that will put you in great danger."

She nodded. "That wouldn't be new."

He nodded again. "You know Arthur Castus."

Leera repressed a growl. The Roman. Merlin had been thinking for years that that man, half-Briton by his mother, was their rightful king. King of Britain. She didn't share his thoughts. But she nodded nonetheless.

"I must ask you to follow him and make sure he gets back to the Wall unharmed."

Leera knew the Sarmatians Knights and their commander had crossed the borders to secure some sort of mission of their own. Some of their scouts had been following them for hours.

"Why should I do that, Merlin?"

The eldest sighed, and one of his men growled at her impudence. But Merlin wasn't her patriarch. Merely an old man pretending to be a magician and a wise among the wisest.

"Arthur will be our king. But the forces he is about to meet are far beyond his reach. Saxons are coming." Leera's eyes darkened. The Saxons were known for their barbaric ways of enslaving the lands they subdued, but they hadn't come to Britain in ages.

"Saxons? How many?"

Taun, one warrior who had been spared by Arthur a few days earlier, spoke up. "Thousands."

Leera looked down and thought very fast. She could follow the Knights easily. She was light and discreet. She could kill a fly from yards distance. Her only disadvantage was that she was totally oblivious to the Romans language.

She made up her mind quickly. She looked up into Merlin's face. He was waiting for an answer. "Where have they been spotted last?"

Some of the men roared in content, others still looked doubtful. Merlin merely made a move. "In these woods. A little farther north. Taun will show you the way." Leera nodded and got up, preparing to leave at once. "Leera. May the gods be with you."

She put the back of her hand on her chest, and waited for her guide to get up.

Taun and Leera didn't exchange a single word on their way north.

The young woman was barely aware of the soft sound of their feet knocking the ground.

She was about to chase the Roman. And his powerful Knights.

And she knew she had to be careful.

One of them had hawk-eyes.


	2. They

_A/N: I posted the first two chapters. I'm three chapters ahead, but I will post only once or twice a week, seeing how I cope with it. :)_**  
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**Chapter two: They**

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Leera and Taun reached the part of the woods where their brothers were chasing the Knights in less than an hour. She could hear the horses' feet as they were trying to get rid of the harsh plants along the way. The forests weren't meant to be crossed by Romans. And the Woads didn't ride. Ever.

"I will leave you here. Good luck, Leera."

She merely nodded in the man's direction, and ran faster and as silently as she could towards where their scouts were hiding and ghostly following the men's traces.

She soon spotted a man who looked at her, his painted face quizzical. She approached and signalled him she was there for the Knights. He nodded and gestured her forward.

Leera opened her ears and closed her eyes. The sound of the rain ceased as she closed it from her mind. Every other sound seemed muffled, her own heart, her own breathing, the cracking of leaves under her feet.

She snapped her eyes open once she heard it.

Horses.

Coming her way.

Leera moved swiftly and quickly, climbing in the nearest tree, her dark hair and attire hiding her better than her white skin.

Under her, soon, the seven horses that belonged to the Sarmatian Knights appeared.

The first one was a white stallion, mounted by a tall man with messy brown hair and green eyes. His shoulders bore a red cape. Arthur. Leera was glad she could see his Briton blood flowing in his ways. It would be easier than protecting a pointless Roman.

Behind him came the Lancelot, whom she had already seen countless times. Dark hair, dark eyes. The following was most the same, with a soft pair of blue eyes though. Behind them came the blond one, and the bold one, the one who was cursing between his breath every time his cape got caught in a branch. And then came the giant. The one with the scar across the face. The one Leera knew to be a healer. He had healed a Woad once. She still didn't know why he had done it.

Then, after the sixth first passed her, Leera narrowed her eyes as the last rider seemed to be fully aware of being stared at. His dark eyes were piercing before him, not watching anything in particular as Leera guessed his ears were his best weapon.

She nodded in the dark. That one was the scout. The best scout she had ever witnessed. As silent as the breeze, as deadly as a snake's bite.

His long dark hair was plaited in place, his eyes hidden behind bangs similar as her own, and he bore two tattoos on his cheekbones.

He stroke her as handsome. But such a man was a threat. And Leera knew that threats that came in the form of men were the deadliest.

She straightened her post on the tree, and the man's head snapped in her general direction.

Leera ceased to breathe as he made his grey horse walk towards Arthur's, and she heard his grave and quiet voice over the rain drops.

"_We are being followed._"

Though the words didn't ring anything in her, Leera couldn't hide that the scout's voice sounded as lethal as his posture.

She hated herself for her ragged breathing.

The best of archers. Not the best of stalkers.

The Sarmatian would notice her as easily as the sun in his face.

She cursed the gods between her teeth and got down the tree, running behind her kind, trying to get the gears in her brain work harder and quicker.

As soon as she got her idea, she silently asked a man to point the direction where the Knights would have to get out of the woods. He pointed the direction, and she ran faster than everyone, cutting through the forest to get there first.

The rain followed her tracks, providing a noisy distraction as well as a calming companion.

As soon as Leera reached the end of the forest, she clamped herself hard on the soaked ground, and reached for her bow. She knew all the Knights could take her down as easily as any other enemy, so she pushed it to the ground and leaned on it. Her highly displayed skin seemed to glow in the light of the moon, as the rain slowly stopped.

The horse's feet weren't long now.

As soon as the first Knight got out of the woods, his horse whinnied as he saw her right front, and the man drew out his sword.

It was the Lancelot.

Leera stared at the man calmly, her green eyes startling him.

He was about to get down and kill her when Arthur came behind him, stopping his hand.

"_Lancelot, don't!_"

Leera narrowed her eyes as she understood a negation. _Don't_. She kept the word in her mind for later.

Arthur stopped his white horse in front of Leera and eyed her carefully. He saw she was a female, and his green eyes, so darker than her own, widened. He got down his saddle, his sword ready to strike, and walked up to his visitor.

Leera repressed a smirk. She had expected this.

She couldn't follow them unseen when the scout was so good.

The best way to protect the man was to make herself known.

She slowly put her hand up her chest, pointing at herself. "Leera."

Arthur looked surprised, but understood the word. He nodded. "Artorius Castor. _What are you doing here, lady?_"

Leera widened her eyes and tilted her head, making sure he understood what it meant.

Lancelot sighed behind his captain. "_She doesn't understand a thing, Arthur. Let's go, she's only a Woad!_"

The other Knights then all got down their saddles. The two bold ones turned around and eyed the forest as if in search of ambush, the blond one took his axe on his back and smirked at her, while the youngest just sad down and sighed heavily.

The scout eyed Leera strangely. His piercing eyes seemed to see through her soul.

She looked down.

Arthur took her chin and made her look back up into his eyes. "Leera." She nodded. "_What. Are you. Doing. Here?_" She shook her head. She still didn't understand.

Though she could guess. She pointed herself, then her bow, then him. "Protection."

The scout narrowed his eyes when she spoke, and then walked up to Arthur, still staring deep in her green orbs.

"_Arthur. I think she means to protect you. Her word sounded close to_ shield." Leera jumped at the sound of a known word. So that man knew a little of her language. And she nodded, signalling the word used as "shield" was indeed close to "protection".

Arthur looked at her closely. "Merlin?"

She nodded.

Lancelot sighed again, his horse stomping with impatience. "_Arthur. The old goat might want you safe, but an ambush in the middle of the forest isn't the best way to show it._"

Arthur shook his head. "_He hasn't killed us. And this one seems honest._"

"_And here he goes. Arthur, the Woads can't be trusted! Kill her and let's go!_"

Leera hissed in the Knight's direction as she understood _kill_. Her knuckles gripped her bow harder, and she readied herself for some battle.

Arthur shook his head, while the scout just looked slightly amused. Though his face didn't give anything away. But Leera could see it in his eyes.

"_Bind her hands. She comes with us._"

The scout moved so quickly Leera didn't see anything coming. Her hands were pulled in her back, her quiver taken down, and her arms bind with a scratching rope. She had expected that too.

What she hadn't taken into consideration was to ride.

The scout pulled her towards the blond Knight's horse. "_I can't take her with me._"

The blond nodded, and soon the scout took her in his arms and pushed her onto the horse's back, just behind his brother knight. He bind her to him so she wouldn't fall, and she was gone.

She was beginning to think it wasn't bad to be on a horse's back when the man kicked its sides and it started galloping.

The youngest one, with his kind blue eyes, chuckled a little when she let out a startled cry.


	3. Camp

_A/N: Decided to update twice a week instead of once. Better that way, isn't it? ;3 Oh, and, I will post the playlist used for this (believe me, it's gorgeous) as a last chapter. As, yes, readers, I've finished this. And it is fifteen chapters long._**  
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**Chapter three: Camp**

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Leera was awfully aware of the fact that she could very well die at any instant. Lancelot seemed to wish nothing more than to thrust his sword in her throat, and the other knights didn't seem in better state.

Once Arthur decided to stop and rest, the whole company stopped on tracks and she saw the scout go to check on the surroundings. It was refreshing not to feel his gaze on her back. She felt freed.

Though Leera wasn't at all frightened to die – it was after all what each man should do one day or another – she still wasn't feeling really comfortable staying alone with seven men. She knew what most of her kin would have done to a lonely bind woman.

But it seemed these men were different.

Arthur came up to the blonde knight's horse and undid the binds that sealed her with him. Then, he carefully took Leera in his arms and settled her back on the ground.

She sighed in pleasure, her backside aching with every movement.

"I hate horses."

The men looked at her strangely, and she decided to keep her tongue.

Arthur took her shoulder and drove her to a log where she sat while the giant gathered wood to make a fire.

Leera snapped her eyes up when she heard a hawk's cry in the sky, and she cursed the gods.

"Hawk. Bad omen."

But soon after, the bird came down, landing safely on the scout's arm, where he gave it a piece of meat. Leera gritted her teeth. The two beings were awfully similar.

The youngest knight came to sit in front of her, looking at her intently.

He pointed at her. "Leema?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Leera."

He nodded, his blue eyes kind as always. "Galahad."

She tried the name on her tongue and smirked. It sounded good. Just as the knight's soul.

He smiled back and sat next to her, while the giant settled the fire and looked into her eyes. "Dagonet" the young one said. The giant's eyes widened, and he came to her. Kneeling before the woman, he grabbed her wrist and saw that her skin was torn, blood oozing from where she had been bind.

He got up and walked to Arthur. "_Arthur, she is wounded. Can I unbind her? If she wanted to kill us, she could have tried it many times now._"

Leera didn't listen, as she didn't understand a thing. Though she was most surprised when Dagonet went back and kindly took her hands, unbinding them and applying a bandage on each of her wrists. He looked at her tattoos but didn't talk. She nodded to thank him, and he went back to the fire.

The blonde knight came to sit beside Galahad, and handed him a piece of bread. The young one glared at his companion until he handed some food to Leera as well.

She took it and looked at it, silently quizzing the knights.

Galahad smiled. "_Bread._"

She nodded and tasted. It was good, better than her tribe's wheat bread. More salty. More...Roman.

The blonde one pointed himself. "_I'm_ Gawain." She nodded. He pointed at the bold one. "Bors."

Then he pointed the older dark haired knight with bad manners. Leera lifted a hand. "Lancelot." They all looked up at her, though Arthur didn't seem that surprised she knew his right-handed man's name.

She shrugged. The scout was still staring at her, and she stared back into his black eyes. She discerned some things between curiosity and indifference. That man was a loner.

Just like her.

Leera finished eating and pointed at one of the sleeping bags settled around the fire.

Arthur looked at the scout, who nodded and gave him his own.

Leera guessed he would be the one to take the first shift, as Arthur soon handed her the bedroll.

She thanked him but looked at the other man intently. Why hadn't he given it to her himself?

Galahad claimed her attention by waving his hand before her eyes. She looked into his young face. He pointed at the scout. "Tristan. _He's not very social._"

Leera ignored the unknown words, and tasted the name. Tristan. It suited him. Though he could have been named after a wild animal. Wild and quiet. Just like a crouching mountain lion. Ready to strike.

She nodded at every knight and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder to thank him, and then settled her sleeping roll close to the horses, faking sleep as she could easily do.

Though exhausted, she wanted to wake up when every other would be asleep, and wonder through the camp. She really wanted to see what those men were travelling with, other than four-legged uncomfortable beasts.

But when she opened her eyes and silently sat up, the first thing Leera saw was that Tristan had sat just across of her, and that he was eyeing her carefully, an apple slice in his hand.

They stared at each other for a long moment, each one measuring the other, until Leera got up as silently as she could, looking just like an animal ready to strike its prey.

The scout didn't move his eyes from her, but she saw his hand as his sword's hilt.

She smirked. He wouldn't have the time to reach her if she could run to the trees.

He seemed to understand her and pointed at his strangely shaped bow, at his feet.

She understood. With or without a sword, the man could kill her in the time of a blink.

Leera walked as slowly as possible to the man, and settled herself at his side, though still at a safety distance.

He wasn't looking at her anymore, but he still was on guard, and she sighed heavily before turning on her spot and taking him in.

The chill of the night didn't affect her bare skin, but it surely did the man. Under his heavy leather armour, he was wearing a grey shirt. His leather trousers would be knocking in a hot summer's day, and his long hair wouldn't help either.

Tristan looked into her eyes as she was looking at him up and down, and then he slowly started to do the same.

When his eyes locked on her hands and their strange tattoos, Leera smirked in the dark.

He looked up, the fire behind them sending scary shadows on his face.

But Leera wasn't impressed. Besides, she liked to stare at him. He really was an agreeable sight.

Tristan swallowed his apple slice and drove his hand to hers, lifting it to his face and looking carefully at the shapes on her fingers.

Leera slowly got out of his grip without startling him, and looked at him, trying to make him understand she would explain.

He got it.

How strange it was that she could easily speak with that man just by using her eyes.

She smiled and drove her hands up, faking a bow in her grasp, pulling an invisible string and releasing it.

When she looked back into the scout's eyes, he nodded.

Behind them, Galahad stirred and woke up. Tristan sighed and got up, leaving Leera on her log. This time she strangely felt cold.

The young knight came taking his post while the older one went to sleep at his place.

The young woman got up and went back to her own sleep.

She could still feel dark eyes burning holes in her back.


	4. Decoy

_A/N: Here comes the next chapter. If you wanted to know, instead of posting the playlist as a chapter, I will put it on my profile. :) And I WANT YOU to listen to it! ;)_**  
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**Chapter four: Decoy**

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A hand shook Leera out of sleep way before the sun began to rise. On instinct, she whirled away from the hand and searched for her dagger which, she soon recalled, had been taken away by the Knights.

As she looked up, she saw that it had been Galahad to wake her up, and he was looking at her strangely, as if he was concerned for her.

Leera got up and smoothed her leather pants, though they didn't need it, and nodded to the young knight a thank you.

Arthur and Tristan soon came walking to her.

The Roman pointed at her and her clothes, signifying they weren't appropriate. Leera nodded and made a gesture to explain she wanted to know where they were going.

Arthur took Excalibur by the hilt and drew something in the dusty ground. Leera watched as he drew Hadrian's wall, and then further north, a little village rounded by walls as well. She nodded. She knew that Roman estate. And, as she also was aware Saxons were approaching, she could only guess their mission was to save their kind.

Arthur looked at her once again and then nodded to Tristan. "_Bring the clothes._"

She tilted her head as the scout came back with a man's tunic, a leather belt and boots. She smirked and shook her head amusedly.

"And they say we are barbarians."

Arthur watched her closely as Leera put on the tunic and the boots. But she didn't know how and where to put the belt. Tristan sighed and wrapped it around her waist, adjusting it to hide her woman curves.

Leera watched the man closely as he was doing that. Her skin burned at the sight of him so close, but she hid it well.

She understood she had to pretend to be a man. A lad or something. Not a woman, and certainly not a Woad.

Arthur gave her gloves to hide her tattoos on her hands.

Leera looked at him intently, and pointed at a dagger he wore at his belt.

He nodded and gave it to her.

She lifted her hand swiftly and cut her plait as close as she could to her skull. Hair fell at her feet, and she looked at it, feeling strangely lonely.

Tristan took her arm and drove her to Gawain's horse, but Leera shook her head and came before Galahad.

The young knight looked at her, eyebrows lifted, and then nodded. She climbed behind him and wrapped her arms carefully around his waist, ready to go.

Behind her, she heard Bors laugh. "_Well, it seems the little lady already chose who she likes best, eh?_"

She turned her head, trying to understand what had been said. Lancelot snorted close to her. "_Nonsense. She just knows who's the easiest to kill when she wants to escape._"

Galahad squeezed her hands and shot her a glance over his shoulder. "_Ready?_"

She didn't understand the word but nodded.

He kicked his horse's side, and they were gone on the road. Leera kept this new word in her memory. _Ready_. It must have been a way to know whether or not she was prepared to go.

Once on the road, Arthur made his horse turn and face Galahad's, so that Leera saw him square. He lifted a hand and mimicked a severed tongue. She understood. She had to pretend to be mute.

She lifted a hand and pointed at all the horse, gesturing as if she was brushing them.

Arthur nodded and smiled a little.

She was going to play the part well.

Such a shame she couldn't ride.


	5. Reunion

_A/N: Another chapter for you. The playlist has been posted on my profile, check it soon! PS: Sorry this one is short, but I needed it, and yes, it makes Leera more Sue. :p_

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**Chapter five: Reunion**

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After more than three hours riding, the Knights arrived on sight of the Roman estate. Many villagers were out of the walls, farming, plowing, gathering supplies. A small brick house was out of everything, and two men were walling the door.

Leera growled. These people weren't Woads like her, but they still were Britons. And they were treated like slaves.

Galahad put a comforting hand on hers on his waist, and Leera straightened herself. She remembered her role and got down of his horse, taking the reins and driving it to the doors.

Arthur got to it first, looking left and right to where every man, woman and child were working like beasts.

The doors opened, and a small fat Roman got out, all wrapped in his white toga.

Arthur quickly told everyone that they had to pack before the Saxons came, and Leera kept silent, watching around. If her scent wasn't betraying her, there was death around this place.

An elder man was tied to a post, his back ripped apart by whips. Arthur untied him and ordered for the man to be taken care of, while he walked to the brick house.

Dagonet, using his axe, pulled the stones out and opened the door. As soon as he did, a foul scent came out of the place. Leera shuddered. Death was in there.

Arthur, Lancelot, and Dagonet went inside, while Gawain stayed at the door and Galahad, Tristan and Bors watched around, threatening any who would trespass their orders.

Leera stayed in the middle of them, watching carefully as the place seemed to call for her.

Soon, two priests came out of the house, soon followed by Lancelot, while Dagonet came out, a little form clutched to his chest. He rested the child in the snow, tending to him. Arthur followed, a woman, clearly Woad, in his arms.

Leera's heart stopped beating when her green eyes fell on the boy.

She jumped at his side and stroke his hair, looking into his brown eyes, tears falling from her face onto his own.

"Lucan." The name escaped her lips as a pleading, and it took everything she had in her not to say anything else to doom herself. A man came kneeling by her.

"_His arm his broken. And his family?_"

Dagonet shook his head, but looked at Leera intently.

She looked into his kind face and nodded. He nodded back, understanding she knew the boy, and lifted him in his arms, carrying him towards the landlady.

Marius, the landlord, had had a grave outburst while she was watching over young Lucan, and Arthur had threatened him rather harshly.

Leera walked to the Woad woman, and who she saw made her spine shiver.

"Guinevere?"

Brown eyes locked to her, and she knew she was right. Merlin's daughter had been tortured, and her body was so thin Leera thought she should have died days before.

Leera growled and came to punch one priest in the face. She was about to scratch the hell out of him when two strong arms wrapped themselves around her and pulled her back.

When she calmed down and was pushed into a carriage where Lucan had been laid down, she saw it was Tristan.

He shook his head and pointed at her face, threatening to do much worse if she did something like that again.

Leera snorted and turned on her heels before getting into the carriage and next to her cousin.

Soon after, Guinevere was taken in as well as the landlady, and Dagonet started to tend to them, sometimes pointing things he needed at her.

Guinevere didn't say a word when the carriage started moving.

Leera thought they had cut her tongue out.


	6. Scouting

_A/N: Hi everyone, and sorry for the late posting, but here it comes! :)_**  
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**Chapter six: Scouting**

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After some while, it came to Leera's mind that Lucan needed something else than Dagonet's tending to be better. The poor child had a heavy fever, and she was afraid that, after retrieving the last of her kin, she would lose him to the illness.

She planted her so peculiar gaze into the giant's, and wished with her bones that he would understand. She put a hand over her cousin's forehead, and pointed to the Knight's pouch.

He nodded. "_Plants. Yes._"

She repeated the word, and he gave her a little dagger he used to cut down healing herbs. The fact that he trusted Leera with it made her proud.

She ruffled Lucan's hair once more, turned to Guinevere who was still silent, and escaped the cart.

The chilly air didn't make her flinch, but she reminded herself to hide her hands as she put her gloves on once again.

A horse stopped before her. Leera's gaze lifted, and she came nose to nose with Arthur.

"Leera?" She knew he wished to know why she had left the cart, and more than anything, why she had a weapon in hand.

She pointed the blade. "_Plants_. Lucan."

The Roman's gaze softened, and he whistled someone behind him.

To Leera's great surprise, Tristan came riding next to his leader. "Arthur?"

"_Take Leera with you. She is to gather plants for the boy._"

Leera's eyes met Tristan's, and as usual, a shiver came up her spine as two dark orbs made their way into her soul.

"_Come_."

She understood the word and climbed behind him, putting two careful hands on each side of his waist.

As much as Galahad had been careful not to be to brutal, Tristan's riding was much more...scout-like.

She could feel his body heat against her as her chest came touching his back everytime the horse made an unexpected move. His scent, strong as any man's, was of forest, rain and horse. She reminded herself she shouldn't pay attention to those things.

As they silently made their way into the woods, Leera came to watch carefully as each side of the road, until she spotted what she needed.

With a well-placed cry, she made her driver stop his mare, and she swiftly got down, blade in hand, towards the herbs.

Beside it, as fresh as the breeze, was a limb. A human limb.

And not far from it, rested the rest of its owner.

Leera swallowed and, her instincts taking back, she rested the blade firmly into her fingers.

Next to her came Tristan, his bow in hand. They exchanged a glance.

"Saxons." His eyes lightened, and Leera understood they shared a relatively common word. He slowly nodded, and pointed towards the woods. She nodded back and, as silent as a bird, ran towards a tree, climbing in it with all the dexterity of her people.

Fortunately for the Saxons, none were still close. Leera would have loved to kill one or two, though.

Her disappointment didn't come unnoticed by the Sarmatian scout, who smirked in her direction.

Leera snorted and punched his shoulder slightly. Startled by the move, he then decided to put back his poker face, and the Woad woman resumed searching for herbs.

Once she had gathered enough of them to make sure her cousin wouldn't die of fever, she came resting behind Tristan on his saddle once again.

Before he kicked his mare's sides, Leera smiled in his back, and decided to use one word she now knew from his brothers. "_Slowly_."

The Knight huffed, and the horse galloped even quicker than the other way round.

Arthur was happy to see them back, when Lancelot looked rather grim of Leera's appearance. She merely granted him a glare before climbing back next to Dagonet, handing him the plants.

"_Thank you_, Leera."

She smiled and nodded. She was beginning to like Dagonet. He was kind with her, even though she wasn't to be trusted.

Rather than grant her whole attention to her cousin, she then turned to Guinevere, her "princess", if Woads even had such.

"Guinevere." She asked softly, and when the other woman turned her tired eyes towards her, she knew she would be answering. "Are you alright?"

It took her long to answer. "No, I am not." Then her piercing gaze softened. "Who are you?"

Leera took her gloves off and showed her her tattoos. The other one glared at it, then back into her face. "I am Leera. I am an archer in your tribe. Your father has asked me to take care of the Roman Arthur."

Guinevere sneered. "You say his name as if he was filth."

Leera shook her head. "He is not. But he still is half-Roman. I can't come to trust such a man."

"And yet, you go on horse-back with one of his men, and you do not seem mistrusting."

Leera smirked in the darkness. "Tristan is their scout. He is the most dangerous of them. But he also is the only one to understand me without words."

Guinevere nodded again. "You do not speak their tongue." Leera shook her head. "Why are you dressed as a man?"

"Arthur's idea. It wouldn't have been seen correctly, I guess, if a Woad woman would have been riding with Sarmatian Knights."

The princess nodded faintly, and Leera understood that she was exhausted.

"You should rest. We will have plenty of time to discuss later."

While turning back to Lucan, Leera suddenly faced a strange feeling she hadn't felt since long. The cart seemed to small to contain her, and a sudden panic took over her heart.

Nodding to the giant, she nearly jumped out of the cart, and into the snow.

Running towards the weapon cart, she spotted her bow and quiver, ripped it from their spot, and while wrapping their comforting straps around her back, she heard a horse stop behind her.

No need for her to ask who it was.

Two dark eyes met hers, and without a word, she climbed behind him on his horse.

Tristan kicked the beast's sides, and they were off in the woods once more.


	7. Saxons

_A/N: Here you go, another chapter! I hope you like it, and sorry for the shortness, next one will be longer! :D_

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**Chapter seven: Saxons**

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Tristan pushed his mare towards where he knew the Saxons trails were, behind the caravans. It seemed that the men had sent scouts of their own, and a now grossing infantry was walking behind them, still short of a day or little less, while a company of a dozen men where high on tracks.

Leera growled when she spotted them half-an-hour behind the last of their company. Tristan stopped his horse, and they both dismounted.

While his gaze locked on hers, she could see many instructions flying in his dark irises. She understood she had to stay behind with her bow while he waited for them with his sword. Had he understood she couldn't fight with anything else than an arrow, she did not know.

But she still did as asked.

Taking off the tunic but keeping the belt, Leera felt better than anything else when the breeze touched her naked skin. Her bare arms and stomach ached with blood-lust, and she craved to kill those who attempted to her land's well-being.

The first of them entered Leera's sight. With a swoosh, the first arrow made contact with the first man's right eye. With an impressed glance in her direction, Tristan unsheathed his sword. She noticed how much it was curved. A gracious weapon, deadly.

Another Saxon fell, an arrow locked to the feathers between his eyes.

The third dodged it, only for the man behind to receive it between the ribs, and they both fell to a whirl of Tristan's sword.

It went on and on like that until two Saxons managed to circle her and attack her with axes and swords less gracious than her companion's but still as deadly seeing as she had no idea of how to drive them away. Whenever she had been fighting, her retreat had been prevented by her brothers, fighting with short daggers. She never had had to cross a man's arm.

She dodged the first blow, pushing an arrow hard into the man's throat, hot blood dripping onto her hands and face. She spat the foul thing and turned to the next one, who managed to nearly decapitate her. Hopefully, she was still light and quick. The axe only cut her leg superficially.

Whilst the last man fell under Tristan's blow, Leera jumped onto her last assailant and bit him hard on the ear, tearing it apart.

The Saxon yelled in pain and twirled his sword around, but his blow was caught when an arrow found its way between Leera's arms and head and into the man's skull.

Turning around, Leera found Tristan looking at her warily, until she tripped on her way back to his horse.

Tearing her pants a little, he pushed a part of her tunic onto the wound, and she took the opportunity to wipe the blood off her face. The Saxon's taste was still on her tongue.

Just before she climbed back behind him on the saddle, Leera managed to steal a glance from her now brother-in-arms, and she could see that, despite his distaste for her way of fighting, he still was impressed she had killed so many.

Leera was proud.

And this time, no shyness prevented her from locking her bare arms around Tristan's waist.

Damn Arthur. If she was to be trusted, better be trusted within her true identity.

She was a daughter of the Celtic forests.

And proud to be.


	8. Training

_A/N: Here goes the next chapter! Thanks for all the positive reviews of the previous ones, never had the opportunity to tell you, I really like them, and I'm taking them into consideration, rewriting some chapters for you. :)_**  
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* * *

**Chapter eight: Training**

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When Tristan's horse reached the trail of the caravan, the Knight stopped his mare and turned around on his saddle, handing Leera the tunic she had left to rot on the frozen ground.

She locked her fierce gaze on his, refusing to cover her body again.

But his eyes told otherwise. "_No_." And she understood everything he meant by it. Not now. In time. I know who you are, and I am not afraid.

Slowly, as if to mean she still wasn't happy about it, Leera outstretched a hand and took the piece of cotton, passing it over her head. Only her hands were bare now. And it didn't seem to bother Tristan, even though her tattoos seemed to scream at the sky.

As they both reached the point where half the caravan had stopped in woods for the night, Leera jumped off the horse and came to sit by Lucan, who had awoken during her absence.

Two brown eyes locked on hers, widening through the fever.

"Leera?"

The young woman smiled softly and stroked her cousin's hair. It stroke her at that moment that her own severed hair would be a hell for his young eyes. It had been so long.

But two small and underfed limbs soon wrapped themselves around her neck and, bringing her close, Lucan hugged Leera.

"I thought you were dead, little one." Allowing her fears to show, Leera kept her eyes dry, but still shook inside. She kept the young boy against her heart for long minutes. "I thought I had lost you."

Lucan pulled back and looked into his cousin's eyes, his glassy but no tears showing behind his eyelids. "I thought you had forgotten about me."

She chuckled and shook her head vigorously. "Never. I would never have forgotten you. I searched for you and your father for long weeks until the tracks disappeared. I grieved. Both of you."

The young one before her seemed to understand she had been pained, and nodded calmly.

Lucan was only half-Woad, by his mother. His father, a Briton, had had to raise him alone after his wife died in childbirth. Leera had been the closest to a sister he had ever had, even though she only visited them rarely.

But half of his blood knew her nature. And a Woad's nature was not to weep.

"I am glad you found me." And with a last hug, Lucan laid back onto his furry covers, and closed his young eyes.

Leera looked up and met Dagonet's kind gaze, which was watching the little thing try to sleep. She found it appropriate, that Lucan would have found a father figure in the giant. He was the Knight she would trust with her life, no matter what.

"Dagonet?" The giant's eyes met hers. She placed the back of her hand on her chest and bowed a little. "_Thank you._"

He bowed in response, and Leera got up, peacefully walking towards the tent where Guinevere was getting bathed by the landlady, Fulcinia.

Merlin's daughter wasn't in the mood to talk, and neither was she, so she soon escaped the place after a quick wash, taking her bow and quiver and settling in a far set of woods, alone enough to permit her to practise.

After her third arrow touched the centre of the aim, Leera turned around. She had been aware Tristan had been there all along, but only acknowledged his presence at that moment.

The Knight looked at her aim. Taking another bite at the apple he was eating, he settled his sword down against a tree, and chose two branches long enough to pass as blades.

Handing one to Leera, he calmly waited for her to take it.

It took some time before the young woman understood what this sparring implied. Trusting someone enough to lower her defences and learn from another being. She was too proud for that.

But she remembered her fight with the Saxons, and knew her weaknesses.

She took the branch and waited for Tristan to do something.

The first blow came without her notice, and she caught it right above the shoulder, sending her down on her knees. The second one was meant to be a lethal blow, had it been a real sword, as it landed on her neck.

Looking up, she saw that Tristan, still in his calm stature, was waiting for her to get up.

Loosing her already thin patience, Leera lifted her arms and took the tunic off, feeling freer to move around without that piece of cloth to restrain her.

She took the imaginary hilt with both hands and bended her knees a little, in a posture that was very Woadish.

Tristan shook his head and approached her, putting his own weapon on the ground for a few moments.

His hand found its way down Leera's back, straightening it. His foot pushed her knees back straight, and he made her straighten her normal posture. Two callous hand ran freely on her arms, and the "sword" stopped at her right, ready to whirl deadly towards an enemy's throat.

When he was done, and when all of Leera's body was shivering, Tristan took his branch back and waited for her to attack.

Basing her blow on her strength, she made it whirl towards the Knight's chest, but was taken when he just stepped aside and used her own speed to send her flying to the ground, his branch pushed on the back on her neck.

Leera growled and rolled back on her feet, facing the silent Knight again, making their fictive weapons shock against each other, without her ever having the upper hand. Tristan just stood there and waited for her blows, sometimes sending her into a lethal position.

Only once did Leera understand that her emotions were only dragging her to her death.

Her last attempt at "killing" Tristan was the best of all. Without her mind or heart interfering, the Woad managed to fake a turn and blow the branch onto Tristan's leg, then sending it upwards onto his waist, touching him to the point where he would have had to kneel under a real sword.

Their gazes locked. Dark orbs against green ones.

Leera released a breath she had been holding, and she calmed herself.

Tristan threw his branch aside and nodded.

Leaving her alone in the woods.

When she was certain to be alone, Leera fell on her back, the softness of the leaves against her skin.

She chuckled to the night.


	9. Frozen lake

_A/N: Before you start your reading, there is a reviewer here, called Kristall, who is very very "annoying" (kidding), she keeps on guessing each and every plot of the next chapters... I want to know if she is a mutant or something! :D_

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**Chapter nine: Frozen lake**

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"_I mean you no harm._"

Leera's hands, which were plaiting a British girl's hair while Guinevere did hers, stopped a little when she tried to repeat the words.

Lucan, beside her, was waiting, his calm face still burning a little from the fever.

"_I mes you no arm._"

The young boy shook his head. "That's not right. _Mean_ and _harm_."

"This isn't a beautiful language at all. Besides, what are you trying to make me say, Luc?"

Guinevere, behind her, squeezed her hair with little force. "He's trying to make you say that you're not dangerous."

Leera growled. "I am dangerous. Make me say something I will use, instead of useless sentences."

Lucan chuckled and seemed thoughtful for a second. "_I like the silent Knight._"

Guinevere frowned. "Lucan!"

"What? She does, doesn't she?"

"You won't say that!"

Leera let the little girl go, her beautiful brown hair plaited from skull to length. "What has he said?"

Guinevere shrugged. "I can't say."

At the same time, Lucan giggled. "I said that you liked the silent Knight. The one you follow everywhere."

Leera's eyes darkened and, after a moment of thought, she launched herself on her cousin, tickling him where she knew he would beg for mercy. "You little devil!"

Once she was done torturing the poor thing, she straightened up and let her fellow Woad continue her work on her ravaged hair line.

"And I don't like him. He's just-"

"He's just what?"

She shrugged. "We understand each other."

And Lucan changed subject. "I hope we reach the Wall soon. Dagonet said he would teach me how to heal people."

Leera's eyes softened. She liked what the giant Knight made of the young boy. "Did he? Well, that would be a useful gift."

"Indeed. Imagine, you could easily find a job when you're grown up, and your cousin would need you everytime she would cut herself on her arrows."

Leera nudged Guinevere in the ribs but the princess dodged. "I'm not that useless."

"I know."

After a while, when Lucan had resumed his language lessons, Dagonet and Arthur came walking by them, both looking grave.

"_Ladies_."

Guinevere nodded and got up, soon followed by Leera and Lucan.

"_We have to get going. Tristan said that the Saxons were not far behind, and I already fear an unwanted encounter._"

Guin nodded. "_We will pack at once._"

The leader's eyes lingered a little too much on the woman's face, and then he turned on his heels and was gone.

Dagonet turned to Lucan. "_Care to help me packing my tools, little one?_"

The boy's eyes lightened at once. "_Yes! If..._" He turned to his cousin and switched to her tongue. "Can I go with him?"

She smiled kindly toward the Knight and nodded. "Of course you can."

And she was left alone when Guinevere walked towards Fulcinia to help her pack the cart.

A familiar horse stopped next to Leera, and her rider walked in front of her.

She nodded. "Tristan. _Good day._"

His dark eyes widened a little at the use of words, but he nodded back nonetheless. "Leera. _Good day to you too._"

Galahad soon joined them. "_Hey_, Leera! _Come with us?_" He gestured towards the Knight's horse.

The young woman smiled and nodded. "With pleasure." And then, after they both furrowed their brows, she thought for a moment. "_Thank you, I will._"

Gal smiled widely and pulled her by the arm.

That day, she'd had to ride with the young Knight. Not that it bothered her.

During the trip, she started to think about Lucan's reaction. She surely had some sort of pull towards Tristan, but whether it was because she found him extremely handsome or because of something deeper, she did not know. What she knew, however, was that she did not like that her cousin thought things like that about her when she ignored it herself.

And it was worse when she noticed that Tristan's horse disappeared less and less often in front of the caravan, and than two black eyes seemed to survey her.

Leera tried to convince herself it was a delusion.

After an hour or two, drums made themselves heard, while the whole company was high in the mountains and ready to pass a relatively thin corridor. Galahad and her got down of their mount, and Leera walked back to the cart, sitting next to Dagonet.

The giant's face was grave, and she knew he too had felt something.

"Dagonet?"

His kind eyes met hers. He tried to smile to comfort her, but failed. A hand found its way towards his shoulder, and she squeezed it. "_That's nothing Leera. Really._"

She nodded. She had understood. Really, her lessons with Lucan did marvels.

Or maybe it was because she heard it often.

"Leera?"

She snapped out of thought and noticed that the cart had stopped on tracks.

And for good reasons.

The Knights and half of the caravan were already standing on a frozen lake.

And it didn't seem that it would stand having two hundred people walking on it.

Arthur walked, his horse held by the reins, towards where Tristan stood. Leera got down of the cart and silent as a doe, walked to them.

"_Will it hold?_"

"_It has to._"

And on cue, the Saxons drums got up an octave, as if they had jumped several miles at once.

Leera's gaze darkened as she understood that all of the caravan wouldn't outrun them. They had to stop and face them, to slow them down.

As soon as realization hit her, her usual blood-lust rose in her, and she smirked to the skies.

But the men crossed the ice.

And the seven Knights stopped on the other side of the lake.

"_These bastards are so close behind my ass is hurtin'._" Leera's eyes followed Bors.

"_Better face them now._"

"_I never liked looking over my shoulder anyway._" Tristan eyed her strangely, as if to defy her to do something.

"_Here. Now._"

Green eyes met Jols'. The weapon cart was full of bows and swords and shields.

Leera walked to it and grabbed her bow, two quivers with her own, and a tall square shield in case. She noticed the sharp edge of it, and soon found it a use.

"_Seven against a hundred?_"

"_Eight_." Guinevere walked past Leera and took a stand next to Arthur. "Y_ou could use another bow._"

And then she walked to the Roman leader, locking her eyes on his. "_Me too._"

He nodded.

Soon, the caravan had left them. Jols, along with the weapon cart, had hidden close in case they needed reinforcements, and they all stood, side to side, on the ice, several quivers and swords at their feet.

Only Leera and Dagonet had bothered taking a shield.

Lucan hadn't cried. But he had glared at his cousin. Hard.

A column of Saxons appeared where their own people was moments before.

Leera sneered. "They are hideous."

Guinevere chuckled. Lancelot, next to her, soon enquired what she had said, and the message passed down from Knight to Knight.

Apparently they all agreed with her.

The Woad archer had taken her place between her princess and Dagonet. She didn't know why, but she felt as if there was something odd surrounding the quiet giant.

"_Shoot on my order only._"

They all notched an arrow, after Tristan and Bors, thought really far from hitting anyone, killed two Saxons on the far ice.

And then they all aimed for the edges, making the foreign men regroup, hoping perhaps that the ice would break.

But both Guin and Leera were daughters of this land. And, if the first ignored it, the second already knew it wouldn't have broken.

"_Pull back!_"

Dagonet sighed heavily, then grabbed his battle axe and ran on the ice.

Leera cursed between her teeth, and grabbed the square shield, along with her quivers.

"_Cover them!_"

Her legs were shorter, but she was lighter and more used to that kind of running. Leera reached Dagonet when he threw his blade for the first time in the thick ice cover, and she pushed the sharp edge of the shield hard on it. Once or twice after, it stood and provided them a small but useful cover.

Notching her arrows quicker than she thought it possible, Leera killed many Saxons on her own, mainly those who attempted to kill her friend. Many dies with a Woad arrow in the eye.

Behind her, she wasn't aware of another bow than Tristan's, whose whooshes covered any other sound. She was fully aware that he covered them as well.

And then, Dag pushed his axe one last time on the ice, and it finally cracked. Leera stumbled and nearly fell backwards, but two strong arms took her, and she found herself running back to the other Knights, covered by seven bows, half dragging Dagonet who, to her horror, had caught an arrow beneath the shoulder and one in the leg. Both armour piercing.

"Leera. _Thank you._"

She nodded to Arthur and whistled for Jols to help her carry him somewhere she could tend to him.

But she wasn't the only one to have received a short lesson on healing.

"_Let me._"

Two strong hands took her blade from her hands, and she found herself assisting Tristan while he pulled the arrows out of Dag's flesh using her dagger. The giant didn't groan, but tears of pain soon streamed down his cheeks, and she decided to make a diversion, even if he didn't understand a word.

"You know, first time I fought, I nearly died. There is a rite of passage, in the Dark Woods, when every twelve-year-old who wants to be a warrior has to fight against another, and win. We didn't have to kill each other, but wound them to the limit of strength, to the limit where he or she would have begged. I was wounded to the limit. My chest was bleeding so much I was already half fainted. But I didn't beg. And the boy facing me had to ask for a rematch. And that time, he lost. Because I was really angry."

Her story was done, and Dagonet's eyes were locked on hers, while Tristan was bandaging his shoulder.

Two dark eyes met green ones, and they both acknowledged the fact that it had been close.

Before she got out of the homemade tent, Leera's wrist was caught by Dag's fingers, and she looked up at him once more.

"_Thank you,_ Leera. _I owe you my life._"

And though the words were foreign to her ears, she understood them.

She nodded, and got out.


	10. Horses

_A/N: If I am not mistaken, this one is the longest to date. Until...well, you'll see... ^^_**  
**

_Oh, and, to those who thought I didn't cover the Ice battle well, sorry, I didn't write to the movie, so used my short memory of that scene. :/_

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**Chapter ten: Horses**

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As soon as Tristan was done tending to Dagonet, it was decided the weapon cart would be used as nursery for the time being. Jols rode it, between Arthur and Lancelot, riding ahead, and the rest of the Knights, walking behind, wary for any signs of still living Saxons.

Leera was walking beside Galahad, as Tristan had gone scouting on his own.

After a while, Arthur came to his Knights, his white mare following close. "_We need to move faster. We don't know how far ahead the caravans is, and Saxons could have attacked them without our knowing._"

Gawain nodded and soon climbed on his horse, while Bors, who lead both his and Dag's horse, stayed down. "_Oi, can't move these two at the same time!_"

Leera snorted. "And that's surprising."

Bors turned to her, a mischievous smile on his bold face. "_I think Missy can ride it for me._"

Guinevere, who had been riding the cart with Jols, chuckled. "_What a wonderful idea. Do you have any reasons to think Woads would like horses, Bors?_"

"_Don't care, Missy. All I think of is teaching this little joker a lesson._"

Leera's eyes widened as he came to stand in front of her, handing her the reins. She shook her head vigorously. "_I can't ride!_"

Galahad smiled and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "_I'll teach you. That's not hard once you get to it._" She shot him a knowing look. "_I assure you!_"

Arthur, behind them, cleared his throat. "_Right, I think it better too that Dag's horse is tended to until we reach the Wall. But be quick, we can't linger long._"

Galahad nodded and pulled Leera towards the stirrups.

She stubbornly shook her head again. "_I don't_ want to _ride_, Gal!"

He smiled. "_Your knowledge of our language grows impressive, for someone so small._" He put his hands before his stomach, fingers intertwined, and after a long moment of staring, Leera gave in, putting her left foot on his.

He pushed her in the air so strongly she almost fell on the other side of the stallion, had she not grabbed its hair as a last resort.

Gawain burst into laugh. "_Well, that's going to be fun._"

Leera glared at the blond Knight. "_In my_ tongue, _I'd say you're a_-"

Guinevere cleared her throat. "Leera, please. Try, at least."

The archer sighed and nodded. "On one condition." She stared at her outfit. The princess-to-be understood at once and nodded gravely.

The Knights stared in awe when she grabbed her tunic and took it off, shoving it onto the cart's front.

Bors whistled. "_Had forgotten how ugly these were._"

Leera sneered. "_These are _what_ I am. Who I am is_ written on _me_. _Who are you,_ Bors?"

He seemed surprised at her answer, and even though she still wasn't used to the words, she started to like speaking their tongue. And that was a bad omen.

Galahad snapped her attention back at him. "_Right. Now, put your feet into the stirrups._" He helped her there, adjusting the straps for her size, so much smaller than Dagonet's. "_And now, you take the reins, firmly, the horse has to sense you're the boss._" She took it and pulled a little, even if she wasn't sure the beast liked it. "_And now, kick its sides, slowly, not too strongly._"

Leera hadn't understood the thing as much as she pretended to. She kicked the horse's sides, yes, but a little too strongly for its good.

The horse burst into movement so suddenly Leera had to grab its hair once again to prevent herself from falling.

Which she did, eventually, when the horse turned harshly, and she didn't follow the movement.

She received herself on the back.

Galahad and Guinevere were at her side at once.

"Ow. That hurt." Leera sat up, rubbed her sore neck and shrugged the dirt off her. "Let's try again."

Guinevere shook her head as if to curse her stubbornness, and translated to Galahad, who nodded and shoved her off the ground.

Dagonet's horse was waiting for her not twenty feet away, gauging her.

Leera walked to it and rubbed its cheek, staring into its dark eyes intently. "I swear to my gods, beast, if you shove me off your back once again, you'll end up in my bowl for diner."

The horse shook its head as if it had understood, and Leera jumped onto its back once more, placing her feet into the stirrups carefully. Then, she looked over at Galahad.

"How _do I turn it?_"

The young Knight smiled. "_Just pull the reins and push your legs towards the direction you wish to follow. And,_ Leera," she looked at him gravely, "_easy._"

At the same moment she kicked the horse's sides, a little less strongly than previously, all the Knights climbed onto their mounts and started riding South, quicker than before, but still slower than usual, if only to make sure Leera would follow.

After ten minutes, she understood she much preferred being onto Tristan's mare, if only because when she rode with him, she was onto the beast's bare back, and could tell when she would move, when on a saddle, she had no way to foresee.

But the stallion was following its companions, and had apparently decided to leave her be.

She let it.

But someone had decided otherwise.

After Tristan had come back from his scouting and had most certainly told Arthur the road was wide open to the Wall, he had turned his mare towards where Leera was riding, and had started showing off.

Which meant, he had been riding backwards, turning his horse using the only strength of his thighs, etcetera.

And Leera found it either childish and infuriating.

So she decided to poke him.

With her dagger.

Once she felt the tender flesh on his arm under the blade, and the dark orbs locking to it, Leera decidedly felt mischievous. She smirked widely, and tutted for good form.

Tristan would have retaliated. Hadn't it been for Leera's kin.

Four Woads suddenly appeared in front of the company, sending the horses to whine, and the Knights to growl.

Only Arthur and Guinevere didn't look surprised by their sudden appearance.

Arthur pushed his mare towards the leader – who, to her stun, was Taun – and exchanged a few words with him, before turning to Leera.

"_They're here for you._"

Tristan's gaze burnt the back of her neck, but she ignored it when she jumped off Dagonet's stallion, grabbed her bow and quiver, and walked to her fellow Woads without a look over her shoulder.

Taun bowed his head to her. "Leera. You seem well."

"Taun."

He nodded and turned around, stalking through the woods, Leera and the three others high on tracks.

They soon reached a small clearing, where none other than Merlin and a few guards were waiting, all sat around a fire.

Merlin lifted his blue face to Leera when she stood before him.

"Ah, archer. Glad to see you well."

She bowed her head. "Merlin. To what do I owe the pleasure?" She squeezed her bow's wood, clearly stating she wasn't at all pleased.

The old wizard lowered his gaze. "Your mission is done. Arthur is more than halfway back to the Wall, and-"

"And your daughter is perfectly able to protect him, that's what you mean."

"Aye, that is what I meant. We have no more need of your services, Leera."

She heard Taun breathing heavily, and smirked to the thought that they all seemed tense in her presence. That was too good.

"I will not leave Arthur's side until he is safe from any Saxons threat. You are aware they are marching on the Wall." He nodded gravely. "And you intend to fight at his side." He nodded again. "Then you still need me. Guinevere might have her qualities, especially for someone like Arthur, but she doesn't have most of the Knights' trust. I do."

Merlin sighed. "Aye, my daughter has made me keen to the fact that you grew on some of them. The giant one, who is taking care of your cousin – my heart rejoiced at the thought of one of us spared – as well as the youngest, and the scout. Yes, I am aware you have the scout's trust."

"I do not. Tristan is probably the one you should worry about the most." She smirked at the thought of the silent Knight sneaking behind Merlin and cutting his throat open with his curved sword. Yes, that would be a sight she'd appreciate. "But he does his fellows. If they trust me, he'll tolerate my presence."

Then, Taun snorted behind her, making her very much aware of her rising temper.

Leera grabbed her dagger and pushed the feelings aside, moving just like Tristan would have, sneaking behind the other Woad and tracing a blood-red line on his cheek. She then planted her eyes into Merlin's. "Let me stay with them, organize the archers' lines. I will join my kin when all is settled. They are our people too, Merlin." And then she sighed. "And I will not leave my cousin unprotected."

Merlin got up and rubbed his hair, thoughtful for a short moment before he faintly nodded. "Alright. Stay with them. But do not forget whose kind you are, Leera."

She sneered. "Oh, that, I do not, Merlin." She nearly spat the name, before turning on her heels and hurrying back through the woods, barely aware of the couple of Woads following her.

She didn't find the Knights where she had left them. Of course they wouldn't have waited for her.

Well, none but one.

Pretending another scouting trip, Tristan had rode back to where she was now standing, her bow firmly held high, an arrow notched.

They stared at each other for a while, trying desperately to understand whether or not the other was a threat.

She withdrew before he did.

Climbing behind him on his mare, Leera wrapped her arms carefully around his waist, more aware than ever of his slight and muscular figure. She discreetly breathed him in, and wondered if she hadn't chosen this path for a whole other reason than Lucan.


	11. The Wall

_A/N: Phew! I find that I don't like at all the fact that we are slowly going towards the end of this story... I really hate that... :(_

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**Chapter eleven: The Wall**

* * *

Tristan's horse galloped so quickly they both reached the Knights in less than twenty minutes.

While Bors, Gawain and Galahad had been far from protesting against Leera's reappearance, Lancelot, Arthur and Guinevere hurried at her side and she was soon assailed of questions she didn't want to answer.

"_Why did you come back?"_

_ "Was it Merlin?"_

_ "Why are you here, Woad?"_

She decided to scowl at Lancelot first. She turned fully at him, chin held high and hands on hips, looking so less Woadish than when she first met them.

"Well, Lancelot, _I am here because I_ decided _to be here_. Now, _if you don't_ want to _have your_ manly _parts cut off, you'd_ better shut _your_ silly _mouth. You're really_ growing to _make me hate you._"

Guinevere smirked at that, while the two men stared at Leera as if she was mad.

Lancelot eventually snorted, but turned around and went back to his horse nevertheless.

"_Now,_ Leera, _can you tell us what that was about?_"

She turned to Guinevere, who translated for good measures.

Leera sighed, she was too exhausted to go on in that tongue, so she didn't bother and let her fellow Woad translate. "It was indeed Merlin, who wanted to dismiss me, as I have fulfilled my mission to make sure you'd go back safe to the Wall. But I couldn't leave you, not when the Saxons are high on tracks. And I can't leave Lucan. Or the Britons you saved. I fear my mission is far from being fulfilled, and I ask your permission to go back to the Wall with you, and to help with whatever there is to accomplish before the filth crosses our land."

She left Guinevere end her translation, and waited for Arthur's reaction. His whole frame had changed from a deep frown when she mentioned the way Merlin had dismissed her without much of an explanation to a small twitch of the lips when she offered her help to another frown when she talked about the pending attack.

After what looked like ages, Arthur nodded. "_You can come, of course you can._ Lucan _is your family. He'll need someone at his side other than_ Dagonet. _And you are talented with a bow,_ Tristan _tells me. You can help._"

She smiled at the thought Tristan had reported each and every move she had made when they went scouting – or was it each and every really? - and bowed her head as a thank.

"_Many thanks_ Arthur Castus."

He smiled kindly. "_Now, I believe there is a horse waiting for you,_ Leera."

She smiled back, and turned around to see Bors, barely containing Dag's horse, which was far from being happy to see her.

"Don't worry, beast, I won't eat you today." She turned to Galahad. "_Could you_ take _the saddle_ off? _I like_ riding _more without it_."

He widened his blue eyes but nodded and took off the straps around the horse's belly, and took down the heavy saddle, which he left in the weapon cart, in which Dagonet was still fast asleep.

"_Thanks._" Leera pushed on her legs hard and jumped as high as she could, climbing onto the beast's bare back and feeling really more at ease now she could feel its muscle under her thighs.

She kicked its sides and out-walked Arhur's mare. She had an intent, and wouldn't miss it for the world.

Taking her bow, she notched an arrow, turned her head towards the woods, and searched for an open spot. When she found one, she fired, and could almost hear the cry of surprise the Woads' scouts had made when the pointy arrow landed inches above their leader's head.

Tristan was at her side at once. Had he thought she was attacking Saxons, she'd never know.

She locked her green eyes on his dark ones. "_Now they_ won't _follow us._"

She could see the corners of his mouth lift, but he said nothing before going in front of the group to scout again.

Apparently he was no good at anything else, Leera thought. Except, maybe, making her skin cover in goosebumps.

After two others hours of quick riding, the Knights went in sight of a hill Arthur knew was the border of the forest. Past it lied the land, and the Wall.

Leera had never seen it in her whole life, but was little impressed by the massive dark grey blocks cutting the horizon in half, or by the red cloaks patrolling on the wall.

She was stopped by Arthur when she was about to kick her horse's sides again. He was holding her tunic.

"_It'd be better if the people didn't know of our arrangement. Just be a Briton for now, alright?_"

She smirked. "_With_ Lucan as _a cousin, you can be_ assured _I'll pass as one _easily. _He'll kick my_ butt _if I do _anything _wrong._"

And though she wasn't sure he had understood everything, Arthur chuckled.

Leera put the tunic on, replaced her bow and arrow, and pulled on her hair to ruffle them and erase any lingering trace of plait. If she was to become a lad once again, she would have to practise her posture as well.

She put her horse onto the same pace as Gal's and Gawain's, and started observing the two Knights. She pushed her shoulders back a little, her chin up more, and parted her legs more.

Galahad caught her stare after a while. "_Leera, what are you doing?_"

She smiled. "Taking lessons _on how to _pass _as a man_."

He smiled back, slightly amused. Gawain, without parting his gaze from the horizon, cleared his throat. "_You'd better do something for your voice then._"

She furrowed her brows and tried to make her voice graver. "_How about this?_"

Galahad burst into laugh. "_You sound like an old grandma. No, I think it wiser if you kept the mute thing on._"

She sighed. "Why _did I take all_ those _lessons with_ Lucan?"

Gal smiled wider. "_So you don't look like a savage anymore._"

She snorted. "_Well, thanks,_ Gal."

Gawain chuckled. "_I wonder, do you know what gal means?_" She shook her head. "_Then, by all means, keep on calling him that._"

Galahad and his friend then started a friendly fight, and Leera did her best to hide both her smile and laugh. If she was to be mute, no sound could ever leave her lips.

The gates of the Wall opened swiftly as Arthur rode in front of it.

The first thing Leera saw on the other side were a dozen of red-cloaked soldiers, and a red-head woman surrounded by children.

Standing next to them, with the Roman land-lady, was Lucan.

He smiled widely when he spotted his cousin but, smart as he was, he knew better than calling her name.

Instead, when she jumped off Dag's horse, he came to stand before her and smiled widely, until she still stole a quick hug. A stare and he understood she had missed him.

"_Well well, what do we have here?_"

A soldier had walked up to Leera and stared at her intently. She hid her scowl when Tristan passed her, both his and her horse's reins in hand. "_A new lad we found on the road. Don't bother, he's mute._" He turned to Leera and for the first time since she met him, his eyes were unfriendly and even indifferent when he looked at her. "_Come._"

She took her reins from his hands and followed him towards what she guessed were the stables.

"_You should be wary of these, they can't know who you are, but woman or man, they wouldn't do the difference after too much ale._"

Leera repressed a disgusted noise and shook the thought off her head.

Once they were secured in the stables, Tristan pointed at the box where she would put Dag's horse, and went to his own spot.

After taking care of the beast which loved her so little, Leera turned towards the Knight again. "Tristan, _I_ wanted to _tell you, thank you._"

He stopped brushing his mare but didn't turn around to face her. "_What for?_"

"_Your sparring lesson._"

She heard what could be parented to a chuckle, and this time he turned around, beaming. "_You're welcome._"

She smiled and walked towards the entrance, wishing nothing more than spending time with Lucan when it was still possible.

He stopped her. "_But you still need some more. You are a rubbish fighter._"

Leera growled and turned around, an arrow notched.

It landed with a loud crack just above Tristan's hand on the panel.

"Fortunately, _I still have some skills of_ my own, _Knight._"

And she whirled on her heels.

Ooh, don't try poking a Woad's pride, people, you could well lose an eye or even two in the process. And that, even if said Woad can't breathe when you're near.


	12. Ploting

_A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter is obviously a filler, but it had to be done, and you'll be rewarded on Wednesday... ^^_**  
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**Chapter twelve: Ploting**

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Leera walked back to where the Knights had been moments before.

She clearly saw Bors fiercely kissing the red-head woman, before he turned around to support Dagonet, who had finally woken up.

Lucan bolted at her side and pulled her towards the grid, on the other side of which the bishop Germanus was coming to greet the men.

She smirked slightly when Tristan joined them, stealing a glare in her direction. She bowed her head.

Lucan pulled on her sleeve and she parted herself from the vision of the Sarmatians finally being granted their freedom. "Hey, Guin told me you could stay with us tonight."

She smiled and nodded, before casting her eyes up and seeing Gawain bow to take three rolls of paper that had been thrown to the ground. Bors was still supporting Dagonet and was walking away, Lancelot had been storming off, and Tristan looked slightly interested into the Roman's paper box.

The grids finally opened, and Lucan pulled onto Leera's hand once again, trying to follow Dagonet. Once they were secured under the building's roof, she stopped him and knelt in front of him. "Luc, I'm supposed to be a man, I can't follow you everywhere. Go, find Dag and tell him I'm glad he's awake. I need to find something useful to do."

He nodded. "Alright, I'll see you later, then!" And he planted a kiss on her cheek before running away.

Leera sighed and was about to walk back outside when Guinevere came to stand by her. "I need to speak to you. In private."

Leera nodded and followed her friend towards an empty room which was obviously used as a nursery. "What about?"

"My father dismissed you, you said?"

"Aye, he did. And I refused to do so."

"Why did you?"

"I told you before, Guin. I can't leave these people, I can't leave Lucan! They are Britons, just like us, even if they don't speak the same language. My aunt herself married one, he must have been a good man!"

Guinevere's chocolate eyes seemed to glint in the darkness. "Nothing else, you're sure?"

Leera sighed. "I know your theory. And you're not totally wrong. I like them. They have been more friendly to me than most of my or your tribe."

"What about the scout?"

Leera turned around to hide to faint blush she could feel climbing her cheeks. "Tristan is a friend as well. I don't want any of my friends to get killed by a Saxon's hand."

Guinevere chuckled. "Right, a friend. Well, Leera, I am glad I now know. I have to meet with Arthur in a few moments. Some...tactical things to discuss. You should go and find your friend, you too have some things to see done within the soldier's ranks."

The archer nodded and stormed off before Guinevere could embarrass her even more.

What bothered her even more was that even since she had been dismissed by Merlin, she knew she had come back for Lucan _and_ Tristan. Had they not been there, she would have gone back to her tribe and fellow men, who would have tried to have her as they did before she left.

She cursed under her breath and went back into the court, searching for the plaited-haired Knight.

Galahad soon found her wandering in the streets and stopped her on tracks.

"_Hey, you shouldn't be here!_ Arthur _asked for everyone to meet him in the Great Hall in a dozen! Come!_"

She sighed and nodded, following him back inside.

She followed the youngest Knight along corridors and crosses, until they reached a great wooden and golden door, which he pushed open.

Each and every Knight was already there, as well as Jols and Ganis. Guinevere and Arthur were, as for now, nowhere to be seen.

Leera smirked and thought it highly inappropriate, that Guin should tease her about Tristan when she herself was obviously head over heels for the half-Briton.

She took a seat beside Jols, feeling that she had no right so sit beside any Knight. Dagonet smiled at her from across the round table, and she happily answered.

Finally Arthur and Guinevere entered the room, one looking grave, the other having a mischievous smile plastered on her face. She winked at Leera and took a seat next to Arthur, who stayed up.

"_My brothers-in-arms, my friends, ladies, I had to gather you here and now because the hour is at its darkest. We have to plan an attack against the Saxons. Now, I know that each and every of you is free since recently, and I feel horrible to ask help from you, but those who will stay to fight are in desperate need of directions._"

Leera looked around and saw that apart from Lancelot, each Knight seemed to accept the task.

"Guinevere _and I have formed an alliance with the Woads, as you well know, and she has agreed to go and take part to the battle as an archer, and has as well concocted a plan to mistreat any Saxon who would come onto these lands._" He looked over at Leera. "Leera, _I need you. How can you use our bowmen?_"

She smirked. "_They'll be_ more than _useful on the walls_, hidden from _sight by smoke. But, of course, it'll be_ useless _to shoot_ outside _of the walls. They will_ take any _who comes across from the back. And I with them._"

Arthur nodded. "_Aye. Unfortunately, no one apart from those in here, and _Vanora _and_ Lucan, _know of you. Which means you'll have to deal with-_"

"_I'll deal with _anything _I'll have to deal with_, Arthur Castus. _If they are_ more comfortable _with me wearing a tunic, I will wear it._"

He nodded again. "_Then you shall go with _Galahad_ to see that they are ready._" He turned to Jols. "_I know you want to stay and fight, but I need you, as well as _Bors _and _Dag, _to make sure everyone is ready to part as soon as possible. Every woman and child has to be secured when the fight begins, and each man who wishes to part has to be armed in case._" The lad nodded, and Arthur looked over at Gawain and Tristan. "_You supervise any man who wishes to fight with a sword in their hand. Take _Ganis _with you, he'll be their captain._"

Ganis smiled widely and Leera couldn't feel anything but soreness at the thought of a man so young willing to die.

"_Thank you all for your part in this. I will see you shortly._" And with those words, Guinevere, Lancelot and him left the room again.

Galahad was at Leera's side in the time of a blink. "_Well, woman, ready to kick some man's ass?_"

She smirked. "_Yours will do,_ Gal."

Gawain burst into laugh before he left with Tristan and Ganis, and she could clearly see the scout's hidden smile before he left her sight.

"_Let's go,_ Galahad, _I long to see my men._"

He nodded, smiled a little, and walked out of the door towards the walls.


	13. Parting

_A/N: Sorry I didn't post on Wednesday, blame The Dark Knight rises and its official première in Belgium... ^^_**  
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**Chapter thirteen: Parting**

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Leera and Galahad reached the top of the walls in no time. Weirdly, the Woad wasn't nervous about what would obviously happen. Being a woman and leading them would already pose a problem, being a Woad on top of that would be a mess to swallow.

But she had an advantage. She now understood what people uttered in her back.

"_Ready?_" She looked over at Galahad, who was ready to enter the square tower in which each and every archer of the Wall had been gathered, and slowly nodded.

There was barely a hundred of men inside. Leera, unlike many others would have, didn't feel this was a bad omen. She would only have thought it bad if there had been less that ten people up there. 75 was a good number.

Many gazes locked on her as she inspected the room. The bows on the walls were thick and hard to straighten, but no doubt that most of those muscular Britons could handle them quite well.

She turned to them and put her chin up.

Galahad cleared his throat. "_Britons, as you now know, the Saxons are about to attack the Wall. Your captain, _Arthur, _has asked this person,_" he gestured at Leera, "_to be your leader during the attack._"

A small round man snorted. "_Some might not notice, but this is a woman. I'm not taking orders from a woman._"

Leera smirked devilishly and pulled on her sleeves. "_And_ most _certainly not when that woman is also a _Woad, _eh?_"

Many huffed is surprise, some took defensive postures, and few even spat at her feet.

But she had been waiting for worse than that. She took a pace forward. "_I'm not one of you, but I am_ Briton _just as_ much. _In my _tribe, _I am the most talented_ archer. _I will not embarrass you with teachings you don't_ need. _All we_ need _is for you to listen to my plan and do it _tomorrow, _when the filth comes. I will not_ lead _you. I will be you sister-in-arms._"

Galahad smiled at her, obviously impressed at her words, but the same man as before wasn't convinced. "_And what tells us you won't betray us and ask your kind to slaughter our families?_"

She smiled. "_Consider that I am not like _any other Woad. Merlin _has thought he could treat me like a _dog _someone _whistles _to when its job is done, but I am a_ free _woman and I'll do what my heart tells me to! Are you with me?_"

Some immediately shouted 'Aye'. Others waited a little longer, as if to think about it longer, and then more than half the men were shouting.

The man walked to her. His gaze was less unfriendly, but she could tell he still didn't like the idea. "_And what's your name, woman?_"

"_Her name is _Leera, Cort, _and I'd rather appreciate if you remained a few paces back. You could regret it otherwise._"

Cort looked at Galahad. "_Oh, 'cause you're gonna hurt me, pretty boy, eh?_"

Gal smiled. "_Not me. Her._"

Leera smirked, and Cort walked back.

She put her hands on a table and drew her dagger out, tracing a fictive wall onto the wood. "_Now, gather round..._"

After the whole 75 archers at her disposal knew what to do and when, Leera and Galahad got back into the Knights' quarters. Gal stopped in front of what was obviously his room, and gestured her to continue.

"_If I'm not mistaken, _Lucan _and _Guinevere _have a room next to _Arthur's."

Leera smirked. Of course Guin wouldn't be far from Arthur. She smiled at Galahad and walked again a few meters, until a door snapped open and the dark blonde head of her cousin turned to see her.

"Leera! Come, come, Arthur has given us a room!"

She smiled and walked into said room.

There were two beds only, but one large enough for her to share with Lucan. There also was a table on which rested a bowl to wash up.

"That's great, isn't it?"

Lucan, who had been used to far worse in his cell, was literally bouncing in every direction.

Leera caught him when he was jumping from one bed to the other, and pushed him down with all her strength. "Stop moving around. It is late, we should sleep."

Lucan protested a little, but when she took his shoes off and then hers, he scooped around in her arms instinctively.

"I want a story."

Leera smiled in the dark. "You're not a child."

"But I can't sleep! Please, Leera!"

She sighed and gave up. "Right, there was a time when a great wolf was walking this Earth. He was called Fenrir. He was as black as night and his eyes were-"

The door snapped open, revealing Galahad and Gawain, both wearing plain black tunics.

"Leera, _you must come, now!_"

She turned to Lucan and put her shoes on quickly. "Stay here. And do it, or you'll be punished!"

He sighed but nodded, and she ran after the two Knights.

That was it.

When she climbed onto the walls, all she saw was lights. Thousands and thousands of lights.

Camp-fires everywhere in the plain.

As she turned around, she caught a glimpse of Arthur arguing with Lancelot at the feet of a stair, and Guinevere not far behind.

Bors walked up to them. "Arthur _has been clear about it. We have to help the people pack and leave as soon as possible._"

Gawain nodded and walked away, when Galahad stayed long enough to curse the Saxons in a language close to Greek.

When someone tapped onto her shoulder, Leera turned swiftly around, only to face Dagonet.

"Dag?"

He lowered his gaze on her, almost sad. "_I'm sorry, _Leera. _I have to ask you-_"

"_Take him with you. He can't_ stay _with me, and I can't_ leave. _Take him, I'll find you_ later."

He smiled and nodded. "_I will take care of him, I swear._"

She nodded again, and the giant was gone.

Better not get down that wall. If she was to say goodbye to Lucan, she would never let him go again.

As she was silently sobbing, facing the enemy, Leera started to feel something else than sorrow.

Pain.

And she knew why. Everyone was leaving, except Arthur and her kind.

It was going to be just like before. Her, her bow, and a dozen of men all begging her to mate with them, as hunters chasing a prey.

She had felt so good these last days. So human. So different.

So cared about.

Galahad was certainly slowly becoming a friend, as was Dagonet, if he wasn't already. Bors was like a big brother with his manners, and Gawain not much different.

Arthur never treated her badly, and Lancelot, even if he couldn't trust her, wasn't bad either.

And Tristan.

Leera sobbed again.

She didn't want to leave Tristan.

And just as she was thinking about that, a well-known horse whinnied just below her. Turning around, she saw that the mare's rider was strapping bags onto her back.

Leera wiped her cheeks dry, and got down the wall.

Tristan spotted her even though she was coming from behind. "Leera."

She smiled sadly. "Tristan." Then she sighed deeply. "_You're_ leaving."

His hands stopped and his turned around gracefully, his dark eyes locking on hers. "_Not right now. In the morn._"

She nodded. "_Right._" She could almost not refrain the tears.

He saw it. "_You're sad._"

She nodded again, but couldn't take it anymore.

So she just turned around and nearly ran away.

She ran faster and faster, avoiding every person on her way, ignoring some greetings of her newly acquired men, and reached a dark alley where she stopped and fisted a wall in her rage.

She was so stupid!

And she didn't feel better when she heard a calm breathing coming from behind her.

"_Why did you run away?_"

Leera sighed and turned around, very slowly.

Tristan was standing there, not three feet away, his face almost swallowed in darkness.

It infuriated her that he was so turning her on even though she could only guess his features!

So she gave up.

She walked up to him as quickly as she could to make sure her would see her coming, grabbed his face in her hands, and pushed her lips hard on his own.

After a moment of stun on both sides, the impossible happened.

He kissed her back.

He kissed her back with such passion and rage that Leera thought he was angry with her. But in fact, it didn't really matter. After all, Tristan was kissing her back.

When she pushed him against the nearest wall, the scout let out a groan and reversed their positions, pinning her hard and pressing his body against every inch of hers.

And then they had to breathe.

Tristan put his forehead on Leera's and they breathed together for a few moments.

And then he sighed as deeply as she had done not so long before, caressed her cheek, and left.

And Leera cried again.


	14. Badon Hill

_A/N: So sorry about this long wait. First hand, I got too tired after work to dare posting, and second hand I grew tired of everything and didn't bother moving my fingers on FanFiction. Everything I'm writing is waiting for me to shake a leg. But this was already written, so here it is. Last chapter on Sunday, and if you don't see it by Monday morning, feel free to shout at me. I deserve it for being the worst procrastinator in history._**  
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**Chapter fourteen: Badon Hill**

* * *

Leera remained hidden in that dark alley until her breathing had gone back to normal. The kiss she had shared with Tristan still unnerved her, but she knew that she had more important things to focus on. Saying goodbye to the rest of the Knights for example.

She tightened her fists and sighed heavily before quickly heading to the Knights' quarters. Surely, she saw Gawain and Galahad putting bags on their horses' backs, and she approached, eyeing around if she didn't see the object of her attentions.

"_Hey_, Leera!"

She smiled sadly at the youngest Knights and bowed her head in response. "_You're packing._"

"_Aye we are, little madam._" She smiled at Gawain's attempt to lighten the mood. "_I'm sorry to tell you that _Bors _and _Dagonet _have already gone over, with your cousin if I recall well._"

She nodded. "_I've asked him to take _Lucan _with him. He'll be better with a father figure than an_ untamed Woad _as a cousin, don't you think?_"

Galahad's smile faded and he came to stand in front of her, putting two careful hands on her shoulders.

She ignored where that came from, but she launched herself at him and embraced him tightly for a short moment. Then, she did the same with Gawain. "_I do wish you well,_ Knights."

"_We'll see you later, _Leera, _do not worry._"

She smiled sadly and nodded again, before heading back inside towards her room. Her instincts told her she'd find Guinevere dressing up for battle.

And sure, Guin was already dressed in her leather straps, compressing her breasts and rending her figure even slighter than usual. She was mixing the content of a wooden pot, and Leera knew instantly. The war paintings.

Guinevere watched her as she carefully took her tunic off and put it on what used to be her bed. Then, she turned around and sat next to her fellow Woad, and watched as the pigments already formed the bluer paint she had ever seen.

"You wish me to put some on you, archer?"

Leera stared at her permanent tattoos and decided that only her face needed to show her nature more than her attire already did. "My face needs to frighten the filth."

"You'll already frighten them only by your figure, sister."

Leera smirked. "Talk about you, sister."

Guinevere smiled and put the spoon down, plunging her long fingers in the blue paint and drawing complex lines on her belly and arms.

Leera watched as the symbols that stretched on her friends' body reflected both her rank and threat. The daughter of a general, both as skilled with a blade than with a bow. A triple threat, so to speak.

Guinevere then touched Leera's cheek tenderly with the paint, and at the forms she drew on her skin, Leera's eyes widened. She had drawn, on her left cheek, the same symbol as Tristan's tattoos.

Guin smirked and drew another line on her right cheek, this time Arthur's coat of arms.

"There. They'll know who you belong to now." Leera didn't have to ask for an answer to follow. "I know that you don't wish to go back to our people. This is a tale I wish to hear sometimes, but not now."

She put the bowl down, and grabbed a leather belt she swiftly wrapped around her fragile hips.

"Shall we go, Leera?"

Leera shot up and grabbed bow and quiver, nodding gravely. "Let's teach them a lesson."

Guinevere smirked and both women escaped the comfort of the room, returning to the coldness of the night and into a deserted courtyard.

"They have left. Good. They will be long gone when the sun rises."

But Leera knew that at least a group of men would still camp on the edges of the village, waiting for the last moment to go, so to protect the others in case the battle was lost.

She gritted her teeth. They wouldn't lose.

"Guinevere! Leera!" They headed to where Arthur was standing, clad in his armour, his cape floating as he made his way towards them. "_These paintings suit you._" He stared one moment longer at Leera's cheeks but made no comment. Her face stayed blank.

"_I have to rejoin my people at the edge of the woods,_ Arthur._ Do you wish me to deliver a message?_"

"_Yes, do tell your father that he and his men can camp down the hill for tonight. They'll be on place that way._" Guinevere nodded and after an exchange of blazing gazes, she hurried towards the woods.

Arthur then turned to Leera and they stared at each other for a long moment before he opened his mouth.

"_I'd wish you to camp on the walls with your men, _Leera, _if that's okay._"

She nodded and smiled a little. "_I am their captain, I will take care of them._"

He nodded gravely and then chuckled. "_That's strange, isn't it? I've killed many of your people, and you mine, and yet we are mixing sides._"

She shook her head. "_We're not mixing sides. We've _always _been on the same side, but it took time to realise._"

He smiled and bowed his head. "_I'll see you on the battlefield_, Leera."

She bowed back. "_See you_, Arthur."

The Roman parted, leaving Leera alone in the middle of what used to be a crowed place. She sighed deeply before climbing the few stairs heading to the walls, and she soon spotted Cort, who was eyeing the sleeping Saxons with a dark eye.

They didn't exchange words, just acknowledged each other with a bow of the head, and both directed their gazes towards their enemy.

A few hours passed like this. Leera and Cort were sometimes joined by some other of their squadron, and when the sky started to turn from back to ink blue, she turned to her man.

"_We need to arm ourselves._"

He nodded and followed her into the armoury, just at the top of the stairs, in the hall they had had a meeting in not a day prior.

All 75 men soon were all armed and ready to kill. No one dared to make a comment about Leera's paintings or her obviously Woad attire, probably because of the stares she gave everyone. A few men had had to tear their tunics apart to leave the arms free, and many had decided to go bare-chested, as Cort.

"_Men of _Badon Hill, _I am happy to fight _alongside _you today. Each and _every_ who should fall today will receive my_ respects_ and will be granted the_ highest _regards my people can offer to their_ dead."

Few mumbled words between their breaths, some bowed their heads in gratitude, most exchanged dark glances. They would be butchered, that was a sure thing, but knowing their long-time enemy would honour their death was something still.

Cort lifted his bow in the air and shouted, followed by the entire company, and Leera herself.

Then, three groups departed, all silent and as swift as the early wind. The still dark sky would provide them time to hide behind the walls.

Cort and his men were the second to part. Leera and him exchanged respectful bows again, and they were both off.

With the 25 men under her command, Leera felt outnumbered, but she knew their strategy was an important part of Arthur's plan.

As she rejoined her spot behind a high part of dark stone, she turned around and saw Arthur himself, on his white horse, flag in hand, eyeing the whole place as a god would do his creation.

On the far horizon, she could see a company going back to life and departing.

When a bird flew towards a man, her heart twitched. Leera shook her head, and convinced herself that it was a better thing that Tristan was leaving.

She just hoped that, should they decide to turn back and help them, Dagonet would do no fool thing and remain at Lucan's side. If he didn't do so, she'd kill him.

Leera smirked when she heard Bors' call to Arthur, and repressed her will to shout "Ruuus" back to her bold friend.

Arthur called back, and planted his flag when the Briton traitor, actually a man of Woad blood, waved a white flag in front of the heavy doors.

The Roman rode towards them, and Leera quickly gestured to two of her toughest men to discreetly get down the walls and open the doors for Arthur. He bowed his thanks, and passed them, covered in the smoke that now rose from the village ashes.

Cerdic, the Saxons' leader, was waiting for Arthur in the middle of the field. Regal on his horse, the defender of this land advanced, and both exchanged more than a few words before Arthur leaned in towards his enemy, his green eyes blazing with fury.

And he was back inside, Leera's men closing the doors back behind him.

She longed to kill those men. She saw it on Arthur's face. If he himself had such an air of pure hatred on his features, then she could plaster one onto hers as well.

Then her breath heavied. She could precisely make several other horses climbing the hill to join Arthur, and they didn't belong to Merlin.

The dark stallion that was mounted by Lancelot stopped next to Arthur's, and Leera could perfectly picture the smile between the two friends. Then, Gawain and Galahad both took their spot, followed by Bors, and Tristan, clad in his strange armour, looking even in the distance more dangerous than his brothers-in-arms.

Leera couldn't contain herself any longer, and took opportunity of the smoke hiding her from the Saxons to notch an arrow and fire it.

When it landed at Tristan's feet, and even from such a distance, she could hear the faint echo of Bors' laugh, and smirked to herself.

As long as he got the message...


	15. A change of heart

_A/N: Here we are. Our last chapter. I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it. And I mean this for the whole story. I really liked writing it, and liked seeing so many of you appreciate it. Don't forget to review at the end, please. :D_**  
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**Chapter fifteen: A change of heart**

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Leera turned to her men. Many were looking distraught, some hopeful at the sight of their Knights, other held the blank faces of those trying not to think about the moment.

She turned to Tarn, the closest to her, and whispered in his ear.

"_It's time. Open the gates._"

He nodded and passed down the message until, beneath them, the doors effectively cracked open.

A column of Saxons then burst to life, and Leera felt their drums enter her chest like a thousand blades.

Tarn chuckled. "_They're gonna be surprised, the son of bitches._"

She smirked at his words and turned her gaze to the hill.

Through the smoke, she could make the figures of the Knights, and saw that the white horse was ahead of the others. Arthur must have been doing a speech.

The Saxons were closing one them, almost reaching the gates, and Leera's hands clutched her bow.

She looked at Tarn. "_Do not fire under any circumstances. They're _Arthur'_s_."

He nodded and again, the rumours of passing words were heard around the wall.

Then, Leera's eyes widened as an arrow was fired from the hill, passed over her head and landed behind the wall. She knelt and peeked over the stone, just enough to see a body fall from the tree welcoming strangers into civil lands.

She smirked at Tristan's skills.

And the Saxons entered the Wall's grounds.

They looked around for any sign of resistance, but Leera and her men, gathered on a path of wall invisible from the gates, stayed unknown.

The hill had been deserted, and the Knights descended on the field, baiting the Saxons who took the hint and started walking heavily towards the horses.

A wave of her wrist, and Leera's men sealed the door behind the trapped filth.

"Our turn." she whispered in her tongue, and Tarn eyed her, quizzical. She smirked devilishly and then, the blessed noise of hundreds of Woad arrows pierced the silence, and touched their enemies.

Tarn gasped. "_What was that?_"

"_My people._" She smirked wider when she heard Bors' cry 'Rus' echoed by his fellow Knights, and the Saxon's infantry had no chance whatsoever to survive that masterpiece of strategy.

Leera gritted her teeth in expectation.

One more. Just one more and her bow would kill.

Then the doors cracked open, and a Saxon sauntered a few meters, his face covered in blood, before falling at the feet of his leaders.

"_This is it._" Tarn's hands gripped his bow as well as all her men's, and Leera smirked when she saw Merlin and his catapults marching onto the hill, while thousands of Saxons spread on the field.

Leera notched an arrow and lifted it into the air, at the same time as Guinevere, on the left flank, as her lighted arrow would take down a part of Cynric's men.

The archer directed her bow to the right, and smiled as she heard her men mirror her actions, and then she released, and dozens of arrows were now taking Cerdic's men from behind.

Some fell, dead, others crumpled down, wounded, some other turned around and eyed the walls warily, but the smoke hid their enemies to their eyes, and by the time they lifted their shields, Leera had launched again.

A line of fire had opened to their left, and they could now hear Woadish cries mixing with Saxons' as their infantry was attacking, their bluish skin lighting in the smoke.

Leera gritted her teeth and wished Guinevere would be alright, when she fired another arrow, still hidden from her preys.

Up front, balls of fire were launched from the hill, and Cerdic's men were now trapped between the Knights, Merlin's catapults, and Leera's arrows.

It was as if luck had changed sides.

But not for long.

She had forgotten how good in close fight the Saxons were.

Hundreds of her people then ran from the hill and Leera passed her bow over her shoulder.

She exchanged a glance and a nod with Tarn, and drew out her sword.

75 other unsheathed.

And she screamed. "Diiiiiiiiiiiiiie!"

And Leera and her men joined the mêlée.

At first, she thought the task too hard for her low skills, but then she realised the Saxons, surprised by the strategy they had all used to that point, were scared to death by those Britons and Woads fighting side to side to protect their land.

She screamed again when her blade found the flesh of a neck, then of a chest, and of an arm.

She killed many, always advancing towards the other side, where she knew she'd find the Knights, and therefore Tristan.

Not far from her, she heard Cort's cry of battle, and averted her eyes long enough to see him fall under a Saxons' axe. She growled in anger and notched an arrow which ended its course in the eye of the murderer.

Arrows, bow, dagger, sword, the Woad used everything she had to kill as many as she could, sometimes ending with a few scratches, another time being lightly cut on her forearm, but everytime, the scared stares of her victims were the last thing she saw of them before passing to another.

And then she heard it more than she saw it.

Bors' cry.

She stopped advancing and turned to the left, heading to that voice.

The voice that would tell her if Lucan was safe.

If Dagonet had followed his promise.

Because nothing was more important. If she died that day, Lucan would be safe, and she would die happy.

She then saw him, blood on his lips, waving his axe in the air and with every twist killing a man.

"Bors!"

She had to scream it a few more times before he turned to her, and his face lit with mad joy.

"Leera! _Joining the feast, eh!_"

She panted and killed a Saxon behind his back before turning back to him. "Bors, _please tell me _Dag _stayed behind._"

He laughed crazily and nodded. "_Of course he stayed behind! I wouldn't have killed him if he hadn't!_"

She echoed his laugh and turned back to battle, her face lit up with happiness, when something caught her eye, not far from there.

A man jumping off his horse's saddle.

In way only one man could have.

Tristan.

Leera cried and jumped into battle, decided to reach him before he did anything stupid.

And of course he did.

By the time she saw his dark hair among the crowd of soldiers, his curved sword was lifted in the air, facing no one else than Cerdic's.

Leera cursed under her breath and drew out her sword, hissing in pain when, distracted, a Saxon had managed to stab her in the leg.

She sauntered a bit but slowly made her way towards the two skilled fighters.

By the time Tristan received his first blow under the arm, Leera knew he was done. If a swordsman as skilled as he was wounded by a mere Saxon, it meant death was nearing.

She cursed again and killed another Saxon before notching an arrow and pointing it onto Cerdic, trying to have an open spot in between the fighters' heads.

She didn't hear it coming, but a Saxon had managed to reach her and was about to cut her in half with his axe when a Knight screamed and cut his throat open.

"_Be careful, young one!_"

She smiled widely. "Gal. _Happy to see you alive._"

"_I know._" He smiled back and covered her when she lifted her bow again.

She couldn't see it, couldn't reach it, Cerdic's head.

Then she saw Tristan falling on his knees after the Saxon hit the back of his neck with a dagger, and she understood.

It wasn't killing him that was important, it was drawing him after someone else than Tristan.

She aimed at his shoulder when his sword lifted into the air, ready to strike, and she released.

The sword fell into the grass at Tristan's feet, and Leera jumped in front of the blonde man.

She hissed at him and notched another arrow, this time aiming it straight at his head, but he just sighed and eyed Tristan behind her, a look of almost disappointment in his cold eyes.

And then Arthur screamed behind him, and Cerdic found another entertainment.

Leera whirled around and drew her green eyes down to where Tristan was lying on the blood-red grass, breathing heavily, blood oozing from his shoulder, shoulder blades, leg and neck.

She hissed when she saw the depth of his leg wound.

Then she searched for someone, and something, among the crowd.

"Galahad!"

The young Knight heard her cry and turned to her.

"_I need a horse!_"

He nodded and disappeared in the fighters, when she turned back to Tristan and pushed a strand of hair back from his face.

She smiled at the sight of his tattoos, thinking she wore the same now on his cheek, and pushed a hand to his shoulder to help with the blood.

She wasn't aware of the fight ending when Galahad came back with Tristan's mare. She asked for help and pulled the Knight onto the saddle and climbed behind it.

When she kicked the beast's sides, she had only one destination in mind: Dagonet.

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Days later, Leera was standing in the middle of a crowd, Lucan at her side, attending Arthur's and Guinevere's wedding.

Bors, Vanora and their children were standing in front of a menhir, Dagonet, Gawain and Galahad before another.

The young Knight's eyes met Leera through the crowd, and they both smiled.

She liked him. Very much.

Arthur and Guinevere then were proclaimed one, and as they shared a sealing kiss, Leera felt a hand make its way in hers.

She drew her gaze up to her right, and met the dark eyes she loved so much.

They might have lost Lancelot and Jols that day, but they hadn't lose Tristan. And that was the happiest thing.


End file.
